God and Girl–Chapter 24

God and Girl is my first novel, written in 2015. I'll post it, a chapter a day, over the next few weeks.

I received the call around 4:15 Friday afternoon. I was at home.  It was unusual for Dr. Ayers to call me.  Her voice broke the minute she said my name.

“Ruthie, honey, Ellen has been in a car wreck and we are at Marshall Medical Center South.  I don’t know how bad she is hurt.  They won’t let me back to see her.  I was still at school when I got the call and came straight here.  I know Ellen would want me to call you.”

“I will be there just as soon as possible.”  I said.

I fell apart.  And, I fell to my knees beside my bed.  I wanted to pray but felt so unworthy and so afraid.  I started crying and moaning uncontrollably.  My Ellen, oh my sweet Ellen.  I cannot lose you.  I can’t make it without you.  ‘Oh God, if you are real, if you hear me, please help Ellen, protect her, save her God from all harm.’

As I was getting up I felt Mom’s hand on my shoulder. “Ruthie, what’s wrong?”

“Mom, I need to leave right now to go to the hospital.  Ellen has been in a car accident.  Please take me now.” “Let’s go.” Mom said.

We grabbed our coats and headed out. It was a clear and cold day in mid-November.

We met Dr. Ayers in the Emergency Room waiting room.  Her eyes were red and puffy. “They are trying to get her stabilized, so they can make some x-rays and give her an MRI.”  Dr. Ayers said.

“Do you know how bad she is hurt?” I asked.

“I was told a Doctor would be coming out soon to give me an update.”  Dr. Ayers said.

We sat down in the corner of the waiting room.  There were several other groups scattered around, all hovering together, eager for news about their loved ones.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Ayers, Ellen’s mother,” the tall and boyish looking man said standing closer to another family group than ours. “Over here doctor.  I’m Emily Ayers, Ellen’s mom.” “Do you want to talk in private?” the doctor said.

“No, that’s not necessary.” Dr. Ayers said looking at Mom and me.

“Your daughter has been in a very bad accident.  Her condition is a little more stable than when she first arrived, but she is critical.  She has suffered head and upper body trauma.  I cannot say more right now.  She is on her way to X-Ray right now.  I’ll keep you posted just as much as I can.  I ask that you all be patient.”  The doctor said.

“Doctor, is she going to make it?” Dr. Ayers asked.

“We are doing all we can for your daughter, but I will not mislead you.  As I said, she is in very critical condition.  Just pray all you can for her.” The doctor said walking away, back to the Emergency Room.

We all just stood there, looking at each other.  And then Dr. Ayers virtually collapsed into a chair.  Mom sat down beside her.  I knelt in front of her holding her hands.  We all cried our hearts out.

After what seemed like an hour or more, just trying to comfort Dr. Ayers, I needed comforting myself.  I got up, told Mom I was going to the Chapel and to come get me if there was any new news.

I had seen the sign on the other side of the Emergency Room pointing towards the Chapel.  I went in and down a long hall and walked into the Chapel.  It was set up pretty much like a church, with pews and an altar before a large cross at the front.  I went and knelt at the altar.

Ellen, baby, I need you to be strong and live.  I felt a powerful force pulling me to pray.  It was the most natural thing.  I had spent my entire life in church, believing in everything my Dad said, everything he preached, all the Bible.  I couldn’t do anything but pray.

“Dear Lord, forgive me of my sins.  Forgive me for not being faithful to you.  Father, please help Ellen. God, you know how I love her.  God, I don’t believe that you condemn Ellen and me.  I believe you love us just like you love your Son Jesus.  Oh Father, I pray for a miracle for Ellen.  Touch her body, her mind, her spirit.  Heal her God.  I need her in my life.  Lord, I can’t make it without my dear Ellen.”

I stayed for a long time and continued to pray as best I could, as heart-felt as I knew how.

“Ruthie,” I heard my Dad’s voice behind me.

“Honey, I am so sorry about Ellen. Can I pray for her?”  Dad asked.

I agreed, and he prayed the sweetest, most gentle loving prayer I can remember.  It was as though Dad and God were sitting together right here in the Chapel and Dad was talking to God as a faithful and obedient son.  I could feel Dad’s faith, his belief in what he was doing. I could feel his acceptance of me just the way I am.

Dad was continuing to pray when Mom came in and told us that a nurse had told them that Ellen was back from X-Ray and that the doctor would be coming out soon.  We returned to the Emergency Room to await the news.

The same young doctor as before, Dr. Spears, said “the news isn’t good.  I’m sorry.  Ellen’s brain is swelling, and we are doing all we can for its release, a place for the pressure to go—that requires a shunt.”  Also, she has a collapsed lung and internal bleeding.  She is being prepped for OR right now.  I’m sorry to have to tell you that the MRI shows Ellen has a brain tumor.  We do not know if it is malignant or not. 

I have asked Dr. Thornhill to join the surgeon while Ellen is in the operating room.  We will know more in a couple of hours.  I’m sorry.”  The doctor said.

The next few hours were the worst time of my life.  By now, Mr. Ayers had arrived.  He had been out of town when he got the news.  And, probably 30 to 40 others had come—teachers, students, neighbors, and friends.

I couldn’t take the crowd. I told Mom I was going outside to walk in the parking lot and to come get me with any news.  I walked out, and Dad tried to join me, but I told him I needed to be alone.

I walked in circles around the side parking lot.  It was not as full and seemed fewer cars were coming in and out compared to the main parking lot in the front of the hospital.

I couldn’t think of anything other than what the policeman had told Dr. Ayers when she first arrived.  She had finally told Mom and me what he had said.  He said that she had run off the road and hit a tree head on.  He said that the road didn’t show any signs of swerving or braking.  It appeared that she had simply driven straight into the large tree without attempting to miss it or to slow down.  He said it was difficult to know how fast she was going when she hit the tree, but he estimates 40 to 60 miles per hour.

The policeman hadn’t said, or Dr. Ayers had not told us, whether Ellen had suffered.  But of course, she is suffering now.  I wonder if she can think about what happened and what is going on now. I walked, and I walked.  I could not think anything good.  Every thought I had was that I was losing my Ellen, that Ellen was going to die, that I was going to be alone and frightened.  Was I being selfish?  Why was I thinking of myself?  Oh Ellen, I want you to live, but I don’t want you to suffer.  You are the most important thing in my life.  I will sacrifice everything just so long as you do not suffer.

When I finally returned to the Emergency Room, Dad was telling everyone that he was going to the Church.  He invited folks to come.  He announced he is going to start an all-night prayer vigil and asked that everyone spread the news.

By 10:30 p.m. most everyone except the Ayers and myself had left.  I had made Mom leave.  She had finally agreed but said that she would be with Dad at the church praying.

Around midnight Dr. Spears and the surgeon, Dr. Baker, came out and told us that Ellen was in intensive care.  They told us they had been able to stop the internal bleeding and relieve the swelling on the brain.  They said Ellen was in a coma and on a breathing machine.  Dr. Thornhill said they should have the results from the tumor biopsy by early morning.

“Can we see her?” I asked.

“I really don’t think that is a good idea.  She has been through a lot. But, I will let you look through the glass into her room, if you will not try to go in.” Dr. Spears said.

We rode the elevator to the third floor and was met by a nurse outside ICU.  “Dr. Spears told me you were coming.  Follow me, being very quiet and do not go into Ellen’s room.”

We stood at the large glass wall outside Ellen’s room.  I could see her, less than 10 feet from me, laying there with tubes everywhere, a large one in her mouth for breathing.  Her head was bandaged.  I couldn’t see her hair. I could see her hands folded over her chest and stomach.  Her eyes were closed.  She looked like she was asleep.  She looked like she was at peace.  I fought back my tears.  Was this a dream?  I couldn’t believe this was happening.  Surely, I will wake up soon and I will be beside her, in her car, heading to her house for our Friday night routine, to finish our Biology paper by midnight.  A swim downstairs, playing our silly quarter diving game ending with an embrace and nudging kiss as we sink to the bottom.  Drying off while rushing to the kitchen for cold pizza.  Then to her room.  Adele on the radio with a slow dance, our clothes falling to the floor as we fall into her bed. Time, touch, talk. 

Everything in my being told me that our Friday nights together were over, that never again would I lay beside the love of my life and stare into her beautiful blue eyes.  I felt as though I was being pulled down into the ocean, into the deep murky water, without any way to breathe, I was being drowned by the evil clutch of death pulling me deeper and deeper.  I was suffocating.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask you to leave now.  We will do everything we possibly can for your dear Ellen.  Please know that we care, that we sincerely care for her and for you.  God Bless you.  Dr. Spears will keep you posted.”  The nurse said nudging us out of the ICU. We walked out, and I returned to the Chapel.  I stayed there until 5:30 a.m.  At some point, I had fallen asleep. I was lying in the floor in front of the altar when Mr. Ayers called my name.

“Ruthie, oh sweet baby, Ellen is gone.”  I heard these horrific words and him sobbing uncontrollably, and then I fainted.